Rip - Becoming Whole

Mutiny

Hi All!

First off, thanks for reading my story, thanks for voting on it and thanks for putting it on your reading lists. 

Secondly... We're slowly approaching the finishing line, so I want to give you guys the opportunity to ask questions, because if any of you have noticed any loose ends, or left wondering about something, now is the time for me to work it into the narrative.

Thirdly... I love your votes, but I also would love some comments. Let me know what you've  liked, if there was something you felt was missing, and if there is something I need to work on as a writer. I am new to this, so by all means be kind but also honest and constructive.

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"Sitting in his bedroom, sobbing his eyes out, Samuel? Afraid I'll send him away? He's a rebellious ungrateful little pup, that's what he is!" Mr Dutton snarled at his son, seething with anger, holding his folded-up belt in his hand as he came marching back towards his sons who were still sitting on their porch with their uncle. "There is no sign of him upstairs, and he trashed the place!" he concluded his angry outburst as he reached them.

Having listened to his children and allowing them to make him feel remorseful for sending Rip to his room, Mr Dutton had gone upstairs to talk to him. But despite the boy's promise not to run away, and his explicit instructions to stay put, Rip was not in his bedroom. Rip had upended what he could upend and then scarpered.

"Relax father, he couldn't have gone that far," Jacob said trying to calm his father down.

"Relax? Relax? You want me to relax? For his sake I hope he has gone far or found a darn good hiding spot so that it takes me long enough to find him," he barked at his adult son, waving the fist at him that held his belt.

Jacob sighed and looked at Robert for support.

"What on earth even is there to trash in his bedroom," Robert asked incredulously as he got up and left the table to make his way upstairs to check on Rip himself.

"What are you planning to do with that belt?" Samuel asked his father out straight with a challenging tone.

"What do you think I am going to do with it," Mr Dutton snapped back, which sounded more like a retort than an actual question.

"You do that, and I report you as an abusive placement," Samuel shot back, matching his father's demeanour, getting himself up out of his seat and squaring up to him, with the table ensuring a safe distance between them. They stared each other down, Samuel equally wilful and stubborn, not willing to back down, despite everyone knowing how this would end, until first Samuel's husband Sebastian, then a few moments later Jamie and at last Jacob stood up in support of the much slighter and younger man.

"Placement? Goddammit Samuel, I am not a fucking placement, I am his father," Mr Dutton growled at his son, without losing his eye contact with him.

"No, you're not. You are a lot better than his father ever was. You are his Papa, and his Papa won't do that," they heard Paul say softly, and they all turned their heads, and watched him slowly lean forward over the table gently pulling the belt out of his younger brother's hand, and Mr Dutton releasing it without resistance.

Exhausted and shaken from the anger that had hid much bigger feelings, Mr Dutton sat back down into one of the armchairs with a loud sigh, and so did his children, looking sheepishly at their father who somehow managed to recover himself and now looked at them coolly hiding his true emotions in the way that only he could.

"That's not good," Samuel said when Robert placed the smashed-up cigar box with all of Rip's little knickknacks and memorabilia on the table in front of them, "What else did he break?" he asked.

"Nothing, I think. He just took off all the bedclothes, pulled the mattress of his bed, emptied his school bag, and pulled out all his clothes from his dresser. To be honest it looks a bit as if he was trying to pack his bags but then changed his mind," Robert said. "He put that book you were reading to him and the clothes he came in, in his school bag. I had no idea he still had them, it's not as if they'd still fit" he concluded, answering Samuel's question but looking at his father.

"Right. Let's find him," Mr Dutton stated, as he got out of his seat now perfectly calm again, no longer showing any emotion, but motioning his sons to get up and help him. But none of them did.

Robert knew where Rip was. Realising that there was no way he would have been able to climb down the trellis without them noticing him, he had gone around the balcony to the back of the house, and there he saw him, on the top of the hill, from where one can overlook the whole valley. He must have climbed down onto the roof of the pantry on the other side of the house and then jumped. He sat with his back against their grandfather's oak tree and looked rather peaceful from that distance.

Looking down onto his father's belt in his uncle's hand Robert was wondering if he wanted his father to know though and contemplated going after Rip himself.

"Are you sure, you are ready?" Samuel asked his father with raised eyebrows in his schoolteacher voice.

"Oh fuck off, Samuel. I've blown off a bit of steam that's all. You should know me by now," Mr Dutton told his son, and then made his way towards the steps of the porch.

They all looked at each other, probably silently agreeing with each other that No, they no longer did not know him, for he had changed a lot in the past two years.

The man they knew as their father, would have taken his belt back. In fact, he would have never let anyone take it off him in the first place. He would not have engaged in the conversation earlier either, but he would also never have taken his belt off when he was in such a state of upset. Not questioning his righteousness, he would have waited until he was calm enough and then simply marched the culprit into the woodshed where he would have slowly but efficiently reduced him to a quivering and self-loathing mess. That father would have never faltered, he would have taken for granted that his children loved him as he loved them, and he would not have been wrong in that. For they did love him but also grew up not liking him much and resenting him. He either did not care or he did not know that they were in a constant state of fear of being punished by him and of not living up to his high expectations, which left a different mark on each and every one of them, and compelled them to be full of self-doubt and struggle with loving relationships for most of their lives.

Having seen him change his ways over the past two years, for the sake of the boy was something they truly appreciated and valued. It had made an impact on their own relationships with him and they were not prepared to let that go. For it reminded them of the loving father they had almost forgotten about, that read them stories at night, put blasters on their knees and had thought them how to ride and to fish.

"He is sitting under granddad's tree, on the hill behind the house, father," Robert told him without looking at him.

"And you are telling me that only now?" Mr Dutton asked annoyed, turning back and glaring at his right hand.

"You can call yourself lucky that I tell you at all. If you hurt him. I leave and I take him with me," Robert told his father resolutely but without any sign of anger.

"Have you all lost your minds today?" Mr Dutton asked his sons in disbelief, shaking his head as he left to climb up the steep hill, that his grandchildren call Papa's Mountain.